Charlotte's Control, page 11
She skipped his torso to whisper her fingers over the insides of his arms, raising gooseflesh and causing an all-over shiver of sensitivity. Moving to his nipples, she pinched.
“Ah! Blazes,” he gasped. Realizing how close her knees were to his heavy sac, he shook his head to clear it so he could appreciate all the sensations as she surrounded him.
Raising his head, he dared, “Mistress, I want to touch you. Please, may I touch you, kiss you?”
“No. Now lay back. And no more talk.”
Feeling daring, he started to ask about repercussions.
She forestalled him by saying, “Or you shall not get the reward I have in mind for you.”
For heaven’s sake, that reward better include relief for his cock soon or he would embarrass himself. Throwing his head back on the bed, he concentrated on not thrusting up to seek friction for his cock.
Charlotte drew patterns on his chest and stomach with her fingernails. “You appear to have a secret desire to submit, William. The gentleman doth protest too much about the Wife of Bath’s Tale, methinks.”
He squirmed, barely following her mixed Shakespearean and Chaucer references. Uncertain if he was allowed to answer, he hoped it would further his cause. His voice gruff behind a clenched jaw, he ventured, “Not so secret,” and licked her finger when she laid it across his lips.
“Hmm…useful.” She circled the wet tip around one of his nipples, and the cool air and hot finger hardened it further.
He thrashed his head from side to side, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated on controlling his cock’s reaction. Her hands on the fall of his trousers shot his eyes open, and he curled his head up to watch, unable to conjure chagrin at the wet spot there.
She unbuttoned him, the back of her hand brushing his rod.
“Unh.” Lava surged in his bollocks, her fingers branding his shaft, claiming him as hers. He flinched and gulped, pleading with all the deities he could think of to not spurt as soon as the air wafted over his sensitive flesh.
Watching her, he found her focus both admirable and infuriating. He needed to touch her, to be touched. Saliva pooled in his mouth with the desire to taste any part of her, if she’d just get close enough. This slow, methodical unveiling was killing him. His teeth would be ground to nubs by the end of the night.
Cataloging the silk of her skin and fullness of her lips in the candlelight did not help his trouser predicament. However, he had no idea if he’d be granted this experience again. Thus, it was important to commit everything to memory.
She seemed to know how close he was, carefully peeling back his trousers then tugging the fabric below his hips to free him.
His cock bounced out to thump against his stomach, and they both gasped.
His eyes flew to hers. Her expression was finally less calm, her gaze hot as she licked her lips at the view of his naked flesh. Knowing she was hungry for this ramped his own arousal higher and he resisted the desire to squirm.
The trousers bunched below his hips shackled his legs close together.
Charlotte moved to straddle him, her petticoat obscuring his garments and framing his cock like pretty flower petals around a stamen.
Blazes. He leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut yet again, unable to bear the sight without exploding all over that pristine undergarment. His chest heaved in air as though he’d been underwater for minutes.
MistressMistressMistress.
“Yes, William? Shall I tell you how you can serve me?” He hadn’t realized he was whispering the chant behind his teeth until her question came.
“Yyss plllss.” There were no vowel sounds in his hissed response as he met her gaze. This exceeded all expectations. He had dreamed of many things these past weeks: silly boy that he now knew he was, he had only pictured scenarios with his hands free to serve her, to touch or taste her, despite the evidence of their first two encounters. Sure, some of those visions began with bindings, of his hands or his cock. But as they progressed, his imagination and experience were too limited to get to this. His few fumbled encounters at boarding school and Oxford had not prepared him for the sensations evoked simply from lying here under Charlotte’s regard.
Their conversations, lessons, the whole mating dance had all been driving toward this. The ultimate vulnerability and closeness from submitting to her command, from giving her his willing surrender. His heart pounded with more than excitement. This, this was what he’d always found missing in those furtive bumbling incidents: this incredible closeness and partnership. He hoped she felt the same.
The bed shifted then, and he lost the ability to think at all.
Her hair trailed over his exposed thigh.
Agh! Don’t spend, don’t spend!
He needed to see. He bent his neck to witness her honey locks pool on his hips. His cock pulsed with the warm tickle of her exhale, knocking into her lower lip. Then leaped again at the feel of that cushiony softness giving way under it, her teeth a hard barrier behind it.
For heaven’s sake, he’d heard about this from school mates, but nothing could have prepared him for the ecstasy of that simple touch. More liquid beaded at his slit, and slid along his length. Sucking in a breath, he clenched his abdominal muscles and awaited her command.
Charlotte did not move her head away, just glanced up at him and grinned, tucking her hair behind one ear. “Eager puppy, aren’t you?”
Her breath gusted over him with each word, that alone edging him closer to what would be an excruciatingly embarrassing explosion with her face right there. Uncertain whether she was addressing him or only his cock and unwilling to forego what he prayed to the heavens was his reward, he bit his lip and stayed silent.
She did not seem to require a response. “Such a handsome toy. A big, firm, silky toy. And I remember how tasty you are.”
Another bead of moisture, another involuntary pulse toward those soft lips.
“I think I need a sip. Do not spend.”
He nodded, gaze riveted on her, every muscle in his body tensed.
“You may enjoy your release when—or if—I tap your hip, puppy. Whether I tap it depends on how well you behave. Nod if you understand.”
He dropped his head back and nodded frantically, hair slipping on the bed, hoping he could keep his word.
“Hmm….” She licked up his shaft.
“Aaahhhhh.” Heaven. A hot, wet, touch of heaven. His hips canted, out of his control. His shoulders raised off the bed as he curled every part of him toward her, clenching his hands around their ties to pull him up. Blood surged through him, all centering where her lips lingered over the crown of his near-painfully-hard member.
“Pleasepleaseplease.” He was whispering under his breath again, through gritted teeth.
Still humming, she glanced up at him to evaluate his state. His muscles loosened and he settled back against the pillows.
Her lips slid down, and she swallowed him.
The vibrations of her continued purr tested his control to the point of breaking. His jaw set, his whole being went rigid as he attempted to enjoy these new sensations without ending them. Her mouth was wet and hot, but any similarity to sexual interludes from his past ended there. It was a different shape, looser until she swallowed or sucked, narrowing when she took him to her throat. The sharp edges of her teeth were cushioned but present, framing her movements against him. He suspected that if she bared them, he’d like that bite of roughness as much as he did the softness of her tongue and lips. And she was sucking his essence down as it leaked from him. The sheer eroticism of that thought nearly undid him.
She placed a hand on his stomach.
Was she releasing him? No, it was not a tap and not his hip. Blazes. He needed to move, but the realization that snapping his hips up might choke her helped him find calm. He’d never do anything to harm his Mistress. Instead, he writhed, twisting his arms and shoulders and pulling against the bedframe, needing friction, motion.
She waited him out, breathing through her nose, the puffs of air moving the curls at his groin.
Finally, panting, he unclenched his fists and lay back.
She promptly slid up his length, and, holding the tip in her mouth, swirled her tongue around the hard ridge forming the head.
“Mistress!” he yelled. Fire swirled at the base of his spine, his bollocks drawing up and his buttocks and stomach tightening to stop himself from exploding.
She ignored him and sucked him all the way in again, her lips hitting her hand still holding the stem. Twice more she glided him in and out at a snail’s pace with him groaning and grunting, and engaging every thought and muscle and trick he could fathom to avoid spilling without permission.
Then she sped up.
“Nonononono…”
What felt like a year after her lips had first touched him, fingers tapped his hip thrice. Exulting, he allowed his hips to make miniature thrusts at a gallop, shuddering.
Her lips stayed firm around him mid-shaft, hitting her hand at the base on each thrust, her tongue flicking his frenulum in a masterfully choreographed dance.
“Mistre—” Meaning to warn her, he lost control of his body when his mind refocused to form words, and he spurted, twisting his hips up now, seeking the continued warmth of her mouth. Blazes, was that allowed, or considered impolite? He stopped worrying about it and reveled, knowing that she was untied and could retreat at any time. The wet heat of her mouth was better than anything he’d experienced, anything he could have dreamed. His cock pulsed against her, sending jet after jet into that sweet tunnel.
Charlotte stayed with him through it all, sucking him in, swallowing.
Her throat closing about his tip to ingest his seed made him spurt more, his hands cramping around their ties in sensual agony.
After long minutes, he sagged, dropping his hips and opening fists. His stomach muscles unclenched, and he dropped his head against the pillows.
She gentled her mouth, swiping up and down once to clean him, before raising her head, lips shiny with both of their liquids.
William’s blinks grew longer and longer, his energy sapped. After all that time with muscles tensed, mind centered on following orders and not pre-empting them, he was exhausted. He’d offer to return the favor in a moment, he just needed a second or two to recover.
He panted out a heartfelt, “Thank you, oh thank you, Mistress.”
Her satisfied smirk the last thing he saw as his eyes fluttered closed.
* * * *
Pushing back from the desk, William swore and ran his hands through his hair.
He’d barely had two hours to savor Charlotte’s ministrations of the prior evening before the latest disaster in his father’s mismanagement had plunged him back into despair. Funds he’d hoped to access to cover much-needed roof repairs for their stables at the country house had been redirected to invest in a high-risk venture led by one of the earl’s cronies.
Heaven save me from the drunken aristocracy.
Speaking of which, he hadn’t seen South in several days and his friend’s drinking had been accelerating since Easter term at university. Yet another person he felt responsible for, as South’s family lived up near the Scottish border and hated London life. He knew South struggled more than he did at Oxford, and was at loose ends much of the summer. William had often wished he could switch roles with South. Even loneliness might be better than the weight of the people depending on the earldom. However, as he spent more time with Charlotte, his wishes had changed.
Jotting a note to have a servant send around to South, he added a note to Charlotte. He owed her an apology, a punishment, or an orgasm for leaving without ensuring her satisfaction, but she’d bustled him out of the house after giving him an hour nap. And now, he’d be unable to make it up to her for another day or two.
“Mama, have you seen this particular debacle of an investment?” He carried over the document he’d found.
“Another one?” she asked with a sigh.
“I’m afraid so. And it appears it will be at least a year and a half before we know if we’ll even get our initial investment back. It’s another shipping venture.”
“Which means all or nothing. If they load those ships too heavy to try to cut costs like they did last time, we might lose it all.”
“Could we ask the tenant farmers to make a temporary roof repair and offer to take a lower percentage of their yield next season?” A shudder went through him at the alternative, which was turning people out of work. He stifled a sigh and a wish for a stiff drink. That was the last thing Mama needed—another man relying on drink to allay his nerves. But he felt woefully unprepared to make these decisions.
His mother stared at the fire, tapping her finger on her chin, which he knew meant she was considering all the possibilities.
“’Twould have to be this harvest, not next year. Their time would otherwise be spent on their crops. And the repair would have to be done after Michaelmas, but that might also help it last through the winter.” She was nodding by the time she finished. “’Tis an excellent idea, William. Please write to the steward there and propose it, and ask him to expedite his response so we know whether we need to find another solution.”
Chapter Fourteen
Charlotte had ignored all correspondence from her solicitor to learn the next ten Latin words. She hadn’t minded William falling asleep in her bed, taking it as a compliment to her skills. But self-satisfaction to the memory only worked as a temporary salve after having her rakelet tied to her bed. There was much more she wanted to do with him.
Mimicking his expedience, she learned the rest of the numbers from one to ten, hence ensuring she had a start on the next set of words and thus the next interlude. They were running out of summer, after all.
Having mastered those and reviewed the poems, she was able to refocus on the quarterly reports on her investments after two days. In the late afternoon, Leah Godwin and Beth Orford arrived to discuss further opportunities to help working class women establish their own businesses. These were not investments, they were gifts and guidance to help direct them toward success. The two ladies had extensive networks—Beth had a knack for matching people in need with those having the skillset needed due to her gregarious nature and her position on the edge of the Ton as wife to an earl’s second son. Leah was an investor in a London theatre and mother hen to her flock of courtesans. Between the two, they had an unending list of women in need of assistance. The trio met most months to evaluate and prioritize whose needs were the most urgent, as well as who seemed most prepared to manage an enterprise.
The meeting had run long and she’d called for a second round of tea with cheese and bread, which would serve as her supper.
As the ladies wrapped up, Austin announced another visitor.
“At this time of night?” Beth wiggled her eyebrows. Her observance and ability to ferret out gossip was as key to her successful networking skills as her affability.
Charlotte groaned. She knew the young woman was a vault, but she was also close friends with Charles’s brother and new wife, and Charlotte was not ready for even family to hear of her escapades with someone younger than any of them. If she hadn’t set an end date with William, she might feel differently. But he needed heirs, and she had a long marriage and a decade of living, which made her too high a risk.
Leah smiled. “Beth, ’tis none of our concern. Do you not have a new husband waiting for you?”
“He’s probably busy with Folly or with his leatherwork. I’ll bet he hasn’t even eaten supper.”
“Which means if you leave now, you can eat with him. Come along,” Leah answered.
Charlotte mouthed “thank you” to Leah behind Beth’s back, and after a surreptitious check that the hall was clear, walked them toward the door.
“Thank you both for coming. I am excited by the progress we’ve made on our list and the success of those whose establishments are underway.”
As soon as the front door closed, she stepped into the parlor.
William lounged on the settee, bouncing to his feet when she entered. “Mistress. You look lovely as always.”
“William.” Coming forward she kissed him on each cheek. “Tea? Port? Whisky?”
“You are all the nourishment I need, Mistress.”
She rolled her eyes. “Too much poetry at university, puppy.”
He just grinned. Sobering, he asked, “May I inquire what your meeting was about?”
“I provide the initial capital for women who want to start their own business, to help them get started.”
He stared.
“What is amiss?”
“You give money away?”
“Well, yes. We also offer counsel if they want it. Cheltie does the same.” Charlotte had thought William had heard of her wealth, given how fast gossip in the Ton circled. Now, she was starting to think he hadn’t, or at least was unaware of the extent of it. She watched his expressions, unsure how much she wanted him to know. Men were too often uncomfortable with a woman being wealthier, smarter, or even simply more independent than them.
“Yes, but…Cheltie…”
She raised a brow. “Cheltie what?”
“By all accounts is one of the richest men in the country.”
“Hmm, yes. Suffice it to say that I have more than I need and this is something I choose to do. Other women knit bonnets for foundling babies or volunteer their time to teach at schools. I teach and contribute in my own way, using my strengths.”
“Yet another layer of you I uncover—an impressive one.” His eyes were wide.
She gave a small smile, ducking her head. “Yes, well, no one would want to wear anything I knitted, I am certain.”
He laughed.
“Mistress, I confess to jealousy as well as awe. I am so far removed from your position, I cannot even fathom what that would be like. I am honored you allow me to serve you.”
The darned puppy was being cheeky again. She shook her head at him.
